The Wrong People
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz, Jack/Elisa, Liz/Drew. Jack can't get married without kissing Lemon.


Title: The Wrong People

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Tina's property etc. No moolah made. Pinky promise.

Spoilers: season three stuff, "Goodbye My Friend"

Pairing: Jack/Liz, Jack/Elisa, Liz/Drew

Summary: Jack doesn't think he can get married without kissing Liz.

-x-x-x-

Jack doesn't think he can get married without kissing Lemon.

Just once.

He's considered it at length. And once really ought to do it.

He's not entirely sure what he might hope to gain from fulfilling such an irrational impulse. It's almost like a riddle of some sort. She's like a riddle to him. One he needs to solve, before he can move on with the rest of his life. Because whatever Liz Lemon started evoking in him three years prior has been growing so incrementally, so secretly and so strongly ever since that he can't honestly deny it's presence, despite being crazy about and engaged to another woman.

In a way, he's come to accept it. Having twin, conflicting desires has become embarrassingly easy for him to reconcile. And what he shares with Liz doesn't necessarily diminish his passion for Elisa. But nor does his engagement completely rid him of his curiosity regarding Lemon. Try as he might, kissing her – just the once - is a compulsion he can't seem to shake. Not that he has shared this information with his intended. And possibly there's no need to broach the subject with his best friend either. Except that he's very uncomfortable with the idea of such inclinations lingering after he is a married man.

Which is probably why, late one night when Elisa is gone from the city and they are halfway through a bottle of red wine, a cool breeze drifting in though his office windows as Liz relays some story she just read about gorillas, he interrupts her, asking the question that's been plaguing him recently. Or a version of it, at least.

"What would it take for you to kiss me?"

Mid-sip, Liz spits her wine back into her glass. "I'm sorry, _what_ _now_?"

One corner of his mouth lifts. "You heard me."

She shoots him a look from the corners of her eyes. "Ye-ah, I heard you, Jack. Is that some sort of trick question?"

"Does it sound like one?" he asks, pouring himself another half a glass.

"Yes," she replies, then pulls a face at him. "And how'd you get from gorillas to making out?"

He takes a seat on the couch, opposite the armchair where she is lolled. "To be truthful, I wasn't that into your gorilla story."

"Oh. Well-" She rolls her eyes: "I apologize for not being more entertaining."

"We all have off nights, Lemon."

"Thanks."

"But this is not the first time since we've met that I have wondered this."

She pauses. "It's not?"

He meets her eyes. "No."

Her face screws up into a grimace. "I don't like to think about you thinking about stuff like that. Particularly not when I'm jabbering on about something totally unrelated, like gorillas or, I dunno-"

"Sandwiches?"

"_That's_ where your mind goes when I mention sandwiches? Straight to making out? How is that normal?"

"No, Lemon, I was simply suggesting a topic you commonly jabber on about."

"Oh, right."

"Although, I suppose there is a tenuous connection-"

She waves a hand. "If there is, I don't wanna hear it."

Jack smirks, takes a sip of his wine. "Lemon, haven't you ever heard the statistic about how many times a normal man thinks about sex in a single hour?"

"Is it alot?" she asks, tone squeamish.

"It is. And we've spent many an hour together," he goes on, ignoring her obvious distaste. "And I am nothing if not male. So statistically-"

"You know what-?" She wags her head. "I don't need to hear that either."

He leans forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. "We've never kissed, Lemon. Not in all the time we've known each other."

She leans back in her chair. "I know that. What's your point?"

"Well…" he studies her a moment: "Haven't youever wondered why?"

"No!" she reacts immediately: "It's dumb, it's…ridiculous."

"Is it really?"

"Hey, you were the one that gave me the whole Liz Hurley speech."

He leans back again, his smirk returning. "What an unforgiving memory you have."

"I have an excellent memory when it comes to humiliation," she mumbles into her glass. "Always have."

"Regardless of any past utterances," Jack goes on smoothly: "you haven't actually answered my question."

"It was a pretty dumb question, if you ask me."

"I thought it rather pertinent."

She huffs, shifting in her seat. "I don't have to wonder about that stuff, Jack."

"No?"

"No," she answers. "Because I _know_ why we've never…gone to town on each other."

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

Liz eyes him askance, silent a moment. "I thought you were trying to be faithful while Elisa is away."

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought the fact that you're engaged was rather _pertinent."_

"This is all mere conjecture, Lemon, completely innocent. And in any case, it wouldn't be infidelity if you kissed me."

"Not sure that's true," she mutters, an edge to her tone. "But I really don't think you have to worry about it happening. This wine is not that awesome. And I am not that insane."

"I wasn't particularly worried about it," Jack replies, unfazed. "Merely curious." He lifts his glass, looking at her from beneath his brows. "And that is, in actual fact, a very expensive wine you are currently slurping at."

Her eyes narrow at him in suspicion. "And you gave it to me in the hope of what exactly?"

He lets out a long sigh. "You know, I think I'm starting to understand the reason why we've never gone there without your insight."

"Oh, yeah?" She arches a brow. "Well, let me remind you of two more. Elisa is one, Drew is another."

"I am not oblivious to the fact that we are both in the throws of new relationships. I am simply noting that we have known each other much longer than either of us has known our respective partners."

"As friends, Jack, as _friends_."

"I realize that."

"I see you in the same way I see…Pete."

"Pete?" he repeats, blue eyes incredulous. "You're comparing me to Pete? He of the bald pate?"

"I don't mean you look similar Jack, I mean, I've known you both for what seems like forever, you're both people I work with, see everyday. You're both people I can just be myself around because I know there's none of that funny business going on. And even if Pete wasn't taken, I know he likes blondes."

Jack nods. "Curvy ones."

"Right."

"I like brunettes," he murmurs huskily.

"Screwy ones."

"Exactly."

"Well…" she tips her glass at him: "you got one."

"I did indeed."

"And you're gonna marry her and have little Spanish-spouting babies and live happily ever after."

"That is the plan."

She studies him a moment, brows drawn together. "So what's this about then? You're not…having doubts, are you?"

Jack shakes himself slightly. "I'm crazy about Elisa."

"I meant because of your first marriage."

"I was crazy about Bianca too."

Her head tilts to one side. "D'you ever think of marrying someone who doesn't make you crazy?"

"What would be the point of that?"

"Just a thought. So…this is just pre-wedding jitters then? What, are you freaking out because Elisa is the last lady you're ever gonna make out with?"

"A man wanting to kiss you has to be in the midst of a personal crisis, does he?" Jack muses, eyes twinkling.

"Generally? Yes," she replies without hesitation. "And you didn't mention _wanting_ to kiss me, you said-"

"I know what I said. And you haven't answered me either."

"You really wanna know?" she asks, tipping her chin up in challenge.

Jack nods once. "I really want to know, Lemon."

"Well, okay then. I would never kiss you."

He pauses. "Never?"

"Nope," she shakes her head: "I don't make the first move, never have. Actually-" she interrupts herself, voice tapering off: "you know, that's not true. I did kiss Drew."

"You did?"

"Yeah. But that was a really weird night."

"How did you kiss him?"

"What?"

"When you kissed him, how did you do it?"

She shrugs, making a face. "I don't know, I just did. His mom – or granny I should say – had just died. We were saying goodnight. And he was just looking at me with his handsome face and his handsome eyes and his handsome hair-"

"His hair was looking at you?"

She sighs dreamily. "It felt like it…And there was this silence. I felt this…"

"Urge?" he suggests, eyes glued.

She nods a few times. "There was a definite urge, yes. So I…"

"You…?"

"You know…I…put my mouth on his mouth."

"And?"

"_And _what? He stopped me, okay?"

His brows shoot up. "He_ stopped _you?"

"No, he was right," she shakes her head: "he was. It was too fast."

He chuckles lowly. "Are you sure this man is not a closet case?"

"Not funny, Jack," she mutters, shooting him a glare.

"Well, for the record…" Jack sips his drink, smiles slyly then lowers his voice to tell her: "I have never in my entire life stopped a woman who truly wanted to kiss me."

She humphs. "Oh really?"

"Never."

"Kathy Geiss wanted to kiss you," she points out. "Probably. I mean…I'm assuming she did. One of those steamy, soft focus sort of kisses with lots of saliva. Would you have stopped her?" She stops, grins, raising an eyebrow at him. "_Did_ you stop her, Jack? Or did you-"

"It was not," he interjects sharply: "herself that Kathy wished me to…go to town on, to borrow a charming phrase."

"Right, but…" Liz rises from her seat, glancing round the room: "that lady is bonkers..." She heads for the bar, despite there being a half full bottle of wine still on the coffee table between them. "How about some more wine, huh…?"

"If you recall," Jack continues, not taking the hint: "we did _almost_ kiss once."

"I recall," Liz answers, back to him as she rifles through his supply.

"Right here in this office," he adds, eyes on her back.

She picks out a new bottle, heads back towards him. "Which was-"

"What?"

She frowns at him. "Weird, Jack. To say the least. And also, not real."

"I know."

"Good." She sticks the bottle between her thighs as she starts to uncork it.

Jack is silent a moment, watching her, before reminding her: "But you still pulled away first."

Her eyes are lowered, focused on the wine. "Because I knew you'd do anything for this stupid company."

"That is, I'm afraid, very true."

"If you were prepared to screw Kathy-"

"Are you equating yourself to Kathy Geiss?"

She releases a big breath as the cork pops out. "We own one of the same cardigans."

"Oh my."

She leans over, refilling his glass. "And I saw her with food in her hair once. It kinda wigged me out."

"At least you know how to work the ladies room door, Lemon."

She waves a hand, dropping back into her chair. "Oh, _stop_."

"So…" He swirls the rich burgundy liquid in his glass thoughtfully. "What you're saying, correct me if I'm wrong, is it would take a much more bizarre scenario than re-enacting a soap opera scene for a perennially mute, obsessive, daft CEO in an office decked out in Marky Mark posters and stuffed unicorns?"

"What are we talking about now?"

"For you to kiss me."

"Oh." She blinks, then nods emphatically. "Yes, yeah. It would have to get waaaaay weirder for me to even consider coming onto you, Jack."

"How much weirder?"

"Stop it."

"How much weirder, Lemon?"

"Shut up."

"I'm curious."

"You're drunk."

"I'm actually not."

"Well…you're engaged anyhow," she mutters. "And messing with me for some reason."

"No, I'm simply intrigued by the turn of this conversation."

"It didn't turn," she accuses bluntly. "You brought it up. And won't let it go."

"I will if you answer me properly," he replies. "Call it a last request."

"You're getting married, Jack. You're not dying."

"Spoken like one who's never been wed before."

"Anyway, buddy-" She stops, her eyes dropping away as she tries to conceal a secretive smile.

"What?" he prompts.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

"What?"

The smile increases. "No, nothing."

"Say it," he insists. "Say whatever you were about to say."

"I was just going to say…" she murmurs slowly: "you do not want to kiss me."

"I don't?"

"No," she goes on, seemingly both shy and proud: "Because I happen to be…a very good kisser."

Jack smiles, a little taken aback. "Is that right?"

"Hey," she retorts, hearing his surprise: "I may not know how to pull off all the rest of that sexual baloney, but at that…I know what I am doing."

"I see. And how did you pick up this remarkable skill, if I might inquire?"

"Same way you did, I expect."

"I've never kissed a gay guy in my life."

"No. Well…yes, but- I meant by kissing all the wrong people. Years and years of macking on the wrong dudes."

"That's how you gained your expertise?"

She lifts a shoulder. "You learn what doesn't work."

"And what does."

"Well, yeah."

"So is Drew another wrong person?" he asks. "Or is he the right person?"

"I…" She draws in a breath, thinking: "I honestly don't know yet. But I'm not minding the making out." She straightens her spine, her tone sharpening: "What I do know is that _we _are definitely…the wrong people."

"The wrong people?"

"To be…doing that sort of thing."

He pauses then asks her, casual as he can: "Not even once?"

Her head wags. "Not even once, Jack."

"You know, Lemon, sometimes wrong can be fun."

"Wrong can also be just wrong," she tells him firmly. "Especially when you've already got someone who's right."

His eyes narrow at her. "You said you hadn't decided on Drew."

"I meant Elisa." She meets his gaze, holds it. "Elisa is…your right person. Right, Jack?"

"Elisa," he repeats then clears his throat. "Elisa is, of course…" But the name sounds weak on his tongue, unconvincing even to his own ears. It makes him halt, momentarily hesitate. And he loses his usually strict control over his own tongue, allowing an awkward silence to fall between them.

A silence that is interrupted by a rap at the door.

Liz jumps up, heading over to collect their pizza from Jonathan and returning with it. "So can we talk about something less creepy now?" she asks as she plonks back down in her chair. "Do you wanna hear my gorilla story? Cos I don't mind starting again and it's actually very interesting."

"I'd like nothing more," Jack says, with a small smile. "But you'd better start from the beginning."

"Okay, great…" She flicks open the pizza box and picks her first slice before relaunching into her gorilla tale.

Jack watches, unable to help his gaze sliding down to her mouth. Her lips are much thinner than Elisa's, much thinner than he would normally like. More delicate, more demure. But he's always thought there was something both sweet and mysterious about the way they could sometimes curve into an involuntary half-smile. Like right now, for instance, in this very ordinary moment when Liz isn't aware she's doing something just a little bit extraordinary. And even as she stuffs her chosen slice between her lips, Jack can't help thinking that he still wants to kiss Lemon. Now more than ever. And maybe not just once. It might not be pure conjecture either, or simple curiosity. Because that impulse has always been there, stretching back to the very first day he met her and intensifying the deeper and better he came to know her.

Perhaps it will always be there. No matter what he does or does not do. No matter what he admits or omits. No matter how happy he is or who he is with or how perfect they are or appear to be. He will always wonder and he will always want. Because Liz Lemon is one riddle he may never fully solve. She's an irrational impulse he can't explain, and can't expunge. She's the wrong person at the right time. Or the wrong person at the wrong time. Just as he is for her. And if there's one thing he's learnt, particularly about the opposite sex, it's that two wrongs never make a right.

_END. _


End file.
